I love old, dusty desert towns.
Most people see derelict structures, sun-leached colors, and places with their best days behind them.
But I find despair in manicured lawns and cookie-cutter cul-de-sacs. And see nothing but character in the mining, ranching, and railroad towns of the American Southwest.
So when Levi suggested we go camping on public land south of Ajo, Arizona, I was all in.
From Tucson, it’s a two-hour drive through what might be the quietest stretch of desert in the Southwest. Nothing but endless sky, saguaro forests, and roads so empty they feel like they belong to you alone. It’s the kind of drive that makes you wonder what could possibly be at the end of it.
Then Ajo appears.
A mining town that should have disappeared when the copper dried up, it has instead found a new way forward. One painted on stucco walls, displayed in galleries, and reflected in the creativity of the people who stayed.
Camping Under the Stars Near Ajo
Our trip started like many of our best ones do. Out in the middle of nowhere with a cooler full of good food and no set plan. We turned off Highway 85 onto Darby Well Road, a quiet stretch of BLM land with plenty of free camping just outside town.
The desert around Ajo is stunning. Ancient saguaros stand for miles, casting long shadows at sunset. Cactus wrens chatter from cholla branches. And when the sun drops, the sky erupts with stars.
That night, as Orion climbed over the Little Ajo Mountains, we sat by the fire and talked about all the history this place has seen.
A Town Built on Copper
Ajo’s story started long before Americans arrived. The Tohono O’odham mined pigments from the hills here, and Spanish explorers took notice of the area’s copper deposits. But it wasn’t until 1847 that frontiersman Tom Childs, Sr. officially “discovered” the rich ore.
Mining boomed. The Arizona Mining & Trading Company was formed. Ore was shipped to Wales for smelting. But transportation was a nightmare, and the first attempt at a large-scale operation failed.
It took another 60 years before Ajo’s mine became profitable, thanks to John Campbell Greenway and a new leaching process that made extracting copper more efficient. From then on, Ajo was a company town, and the mine was its heart.
That lasted until 1985.
Falling copper prices, labor disputes, and changing times shut the mine down for good. The open pit remains. More than a mile and a half wide, a gaping reminder of the industry that built the town.
Art, History, and a New Identity
Walk through Ajo today, and you won’t see a town in decline. You’ll see a community embracing what it has.
The Spanish Colonial Revival-style plaza, built in 1917 for mining executives and their families, is now home to shops, restaurants, and community events. The old train depot houses the chamber of commerce. And the Curley School, once the town’s high school, has been transformed into an artist residency.
Murals cover walls and alleyways. Some are brightly colored tributes to the desert. Others are stark, thought-provoking pieces about migration, culture, and history.
Life at the Border
Ajo sits 40 miles from Mexico, and that proximity is impossible to ignore.
Border patrol trucks are a common sight. Roadside memorials mark places where migrants have perished in the heat. A towering steel wall cuts through the desert, disrupting migration paths that existed long before humans arrived.
Yet in Ajo itself, there’s no hostility. No “us versus them” energy.
We saw murals about peace and unity. People waved at us as we drove through town. A roadside stand sold tamales and burritos, with a line of locals waiting their turn.
Like every town near the border, Ajo has its struggles. But it’s also a place where history, art, and community intersect in a way that feels uniquely American.
The towering steel border wall, raised across sacred Tohono O’odham sites like Quitobaquito Springs, has caused environmental damage and cultural disruption. For thousands of years, the Tohono O’odham moved freely across what is now the U.S.-Mexico border, visiting family, carrying out traditional ceremonies, and tending to sacred sites.
The construction of the wall severed these connections, cutting off access to burial grounds and water sources vital to their way of life. The tribe was not consulted before their lands were altered, and their protests against the destruction went largely ignored.
Ajo’s history, like much of southern Arizona, is intertwined with the Tohono O’odham people, who lived here long before copper was discovered. And today, their struggles with imposed borders and government policies are part of the region’s ongoing story.
Is Ajo Worth Visiting?
Absolutely.
If you like history, you’ll appreciate its deep mining roots. If you like art, the town is full of it. If you like small towns with character, Ajo has plenty to go around.
Sometimes, the most extraordinary places are hidden in plain sight. Towns like Ajo don’t just preserve history. They breathe new life into it.
What I saw in that quaint town no one’s ever heard of in the middle of the desert is the United States I want to live in. One where we set aside tribalism, acknowledge complicated issues without black-and-white thinking, and treat each other with dignity and respect.
Ajo may not be widely known, but its story highlights how a community can redefine itself without losing its soul.
The historical details in this post come from The Journal of Arizona History and the Arizona Daily Star. Specifically, Bill Hoy’s Don Tomás and Tomasito: The Childs Family Legacy in Southern Arizona provides insight into Ajo’s early mining history, while William Ascarza’s Mine Tales: Ajo Had Arizona’s First Open-Pit Copper Mine traces the development of the open-pit mine that shaped the town.
Still Here? You Must Be the Human Equivalent of Well-Seasoned Cast Iron Pan.
Most people tap out early like tourists who underestimate Arizona heat. But not you. You’re built different. So why not pull up a camping chair with us on Substack?
